the soul of a tree has been found in a bit of amber. as it stood

at dawn in a forgiving rain. the white coffin beside it

will soon rise to heaven. where clouds stand apart in silence.

 

corn and soybeans in phalanx. advance across the fields

where the journey of starlight dies.

we die.

 

what does bone dust say. what does blood

in the black earth say. will you be the field

of my surrender.

 

a tree of singular stature towers above

an unpitying field. where a boy begins to know.

love is the one who shapes silence.

 

crossed a field where the plow ceased turning. poisoned vapors. mists

bereft of leaf and root. soil homesick for soul. uncaring and unloved,

as much denied as deserved. eternity of the sterile.

 

where are we going. how many times. washed by salt

and tides. enter at the sea and come back through the moon.

the wound grows littler. the heart composes a motionless song.

 

the roof begins to leak. good fortune. water released

from a stagnant pool. the land is old and wise. good fortune

in many guises. whatever else flows with the river is inviting me in.

 

orioles and osage orange. sing and persist forever.

the rising and setting orbs are enrobed in its passion.

but we, the living, are denied. fear to face orange eyes.

 

flame is the blossom of all that has lived. whose presence

is required for god and others to perish. to rise. through a prayer

inscribed on a pane of antique glass. comes the light older than fire.

 

we will know you've been spoken to. there will be

a sign. come down to breakfast. almost naked.

smelling faintly of honey and bride.

 

a small horse leans into her juniper tree. a lost whisper

recovers its body. love and silence will cut life's thread.

i feel the splinter in my palm burrow on.

 

small apples freeze on the boughs of trees. men hide

their hearts away. she shows me where she died. we

embrace in a dream. the life of spirit obeyed.

 

the world is sky, lake, three men and a killing. it is winter.

deer flying overhead. branches delicate, vibrating.

veins of this world. blood splattered across the snow.

 

old house. last of his line. carries wooden angels with heavy hands.

renews nativity to rend night's ancient skin. iron stove full of life

burning red. knows when to light the candle. knows how to harvest the light.

 

the man who never traveled peels himself from a wall. a body

blossoms inside the woman's body. brushing rain from the clouds.

restless with power. uninhabited colors still remain in the world.

 

she is a pair of migrating swans. of barred owls calling to winter.

sunlight falls on what one needs to know. underground streams

gird the sky. landscape is life is unpunished for being grey.

 

dreams of a wooden box with a hinged lid left in the closet for lives upon lives.

marks time with a calendar of animals. each occupying a window from which one

could serenely leap to earth. studies knots on the face of trees. knows the withering

power that broods deep inside a seed.

 

birds could come back. the sun, reaching for a dark cloak, has

stormed out to find the moon. clouds swollen in black knots. silence

crowds the only exit. where an empty cart waits like a friend.

 

a catalpa leaf bares its teeth rakes the sunset over and over

until the scent of yellow jasmine is left hanging. from the granary

of murmurs in the heart of a child something once beautiful lifts its head.

 

wine as cunning as blood. to feel you slip from cup 

to mouth. replenished though dawn is long forgotten. 

one drop left behind burns through the space of night.

 

how many are given the power of dream

how many are colors

how many seed

 

mummy song

make your way to light

            body bound and fragrant

mother wind over father sand 

            heart in godly hands

silence leaving shadow sings